


things you said after it was over

by wombatpop



Series: things you said [3]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bisexual Phryne, Childhood Friends, F/F, First Love, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Letters, Post-World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-09 08:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15263406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wombatpop/pseuds/wombatpop
Summary: Three envelopes accompany her breakfast plate. An invite to a boring lunch she would never attend, a letter from a recent beau, and another, with a return address only a couple of suburbs away, and a name unfamiliar. She opens this one first, intrigued.It only takes the first few lines to make her breath catch, her smile vanishing in an instant.





	things you said after it was over

**Author's Note:**

> the 'things you said' series is based on a tumblr post by [eversncenewyork](http://eversncenewyork.tumblr.com/post/110395333021/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a)

“Good morning, Miss.”

“Good morning, Mr Butler.” Phryne enters the dining room with cheer, at her usual time of just past ten in the morning, and sits.

“Eggs! How delightful.”

“Mail for you, Miss.” Three envelopes accompany her breakfast plate. An invite to a boring lunch she would never attend, a letter from a recent beau, and another, with a return address only a couple of suburbs away, and a name unfamiliar. She opens this one first, intrigued, and gesturing to Dot, an amused and excited look at the mystery letter.  
It only takes the first few lines to make her breath catch, her smile vanishing in an instant.

“Miss, is everything alright?”

“What? Oh, yes, yes. Just a moment.” Phryne almost runs back to her bedroom, leaving Dot in her confusion, and closes the door firmly, locking it for good measure. Curling up on her bed, she pulls the contents of the envelope onto her silk bedspread with shaking hands, and reads.

_‘To the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher-  
I do hope that I am not erroneous in writing to you. _

_I am the daughter of the late Lily Bailey, nee Clarke, who unfortunately passed away on July 14th, 1929 after a short period of illness._

_In tidying her belongings my brother and myself came across a collection of documents that the family were not previously aware of. Included in this collection was a photograph of a young girl, as well as an unsent letter addressed to you. I have included these items in accompaniment to my letter._

_I write to you in the hopes of recovering some information of your connection to my mother, as it is clear you meant a great deal to her, although I do not recall her speaking of you._

_Sincerely,  
Miss Alice Bailey’_

It’s a full minute before Phryne can face overturning the photo Alice had included, an emptiness she was barely previously aware of suddenly conscious of its lack of fulfilment. She closes her eyes, but in all the regrets she impulsively summons, she knows she couldn’t have done anything differently. She picks up the photograph, fingers burning under the textured paper.

It’s similar to Phryne’s photo of Lily, but blurrier, taken as a result of the generosity of the photographer. She remembers it being taken; she was grinning so hard her face hurt for an hour afterwards. Lily kept making faces and jokes to get her to smile again, every time gaining a laugh and a reprimand. Like Phryne's, Lily’s photo is labelled, ‘Phryne’ in smudged and fading ink.

Lily’s letter is dated, September 7th, 1928.

_‘My dear Phryne, it is by rumour that I have heard of your return to Melbourne.  
My intentions in writing are unclear even to myself. However, knowing you reside in the very city I reside in compels me to contact you. You undoubtedly have accomplished much since we have last spoken. I hear your family are now titled, and wealthy. I would congratulate you on your success if I were not so terribly jealous._

_I have made a life for myself as well as I have been able. My husband is a good man, and I have three beautiful children. Somehow, the likelihood of Phryne Fisher marrying seems to me, little. A part of me celebrates for you- still free as we both once were._

_Did you see the old eucalypt was lopped down, where we used to play? It has been almost a decade since it was taken, but I still weep sometimes. Perhaps it isn’t the eucalypt I am weeping for._

_Life has drawn us apart. I should very much like for it to reunite us. Perhaps I should refrain from reminiscing about a time many would condemn. I cannot help but yearn for your friendship once more._

_I have never forgotten you, dear one, and shall await your response as patiently as I did under that old eucalypt, so many years ago._

_Best wishes,  
Lily’_

Phryne reads Lily’s letter so many time she can recite it, whispering her words to herself with teary eyes and shuddering breaths until Dot comes upstairs to check on her, three shy knocks followed by a tentative, “Miss?”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Dot, I’m fine. Just writing some letters. I’ll be down in a moment.”

Dot hesitates by the door, but Phryne can hear her footsteps descend shortly, isolation feeling a little safer for the moment. She arranges herself at her dresser, pen and paper retrieved from a drawer, letters and photograph laid carefully in front of her, and begins to write, though she hardly knows what to say.

_‘Dearest Miss Bailey,  
I must thank you greatly for sending me the letter your mother penned, and for informing me of her death. Your mother was indeed very close to my heart, although I had not spoken to her in several years._

_We both resided in the suburbs of Melbourne as children, and unfortunately lost touch when the Clarke family relocated around 1915. I had often wondered what had become of Lily._

_Your family is most welcome to visit my residence in St Kilda, and to consider myself as a friend and ally._

_I would only request to be informed of Lily’s place of burial so I am able to pay my respects._

_Yours Sincerely,  
The Hon Miss Phryne Fisher’_

Phryne’s letter is sealed in a fresh envelope, and the other items are secreted into the tin under her bed, her memories now accompanied by another’s, both sides to the story tucked up against each other, saved and still.

Finally, she returns to the breakfast table, a concerned Dot and Mr Butler turning to her as she enters, puffy eyes unable to be hidden, emotions unable to be concealed.

“Mr Butler, please see that this letter is delivered as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Miss.” Mr Butler and Dot exchange a look as he exits.

“Who was the letter from?” Dot asks as Phryne sits, knowing another ‘are you alright’ will go unheeded.

“Just, an old friend.” Phryne replies, and in her melancholy Dot understands there is no need to press.


End file.
